


unification

by shitfuck edgelord (dragonflame3333)



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 10:32:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10739904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonflame3333/pseuds/shitfuck%20edgelord
Summary: consider: could a god among men break the bonds a monster among monsters has bound him with?consider: would he need to?arietoken, because i am a beacon of sin. a 'what if arima and eto didn't need to die?' scenario that ended up being a vaguely ooc mythological take on their relationship complete with epithets a la the greek epics.





	unification

~~~~caught inside the spider's web, he closes his eyes and shudders as the threads wrap around him tight. suspended in the air, his body twitches and spasms as the chrysalis forms. an egg, he realizes. i am an egg. cotton gauze wraps around his eyes and identity is removed, rewritten, reborn. who is he? say it again. who is he? a different name this time. a title, a nickname, a web of truth and lies.

(choose two kanji from this paper.)

(merry christmas, kaneki ken.)

the spider-witch spins her web, laughing as her pretty prey squirms.

 

* * *

 

his hair was once white. then the knight-king plucked his eyes out amongst a field of flowers. he wept ink for months, cries echoing against hardened walls until finally, the knight-king heard his pleas. his majesty gave mercy to this unfortunate soul and he was granted solace. life, love, literature. his eyes and name replaced, the ink flowed back to his veins and took hold in his roots. the knight-king was sovereign, and in love's name, he pledged his fealty.

he was his successor, his pupil, his lover, his weapon. he gave service in all the forms he could think of, and wept with joy upon the slightest smile his king thought fit to grace him with.

kings are chosen by divine right, and blasphemy be damned, to love the knight was to be closer to god than any mortal dared dream. heaven was before them, endless possibilities of the future.

he was happy.

(he was happy.)

(was he happy?)

but that was before. before she came knocking on his door, crooning about the past. before he'd known her love, the sort of sickly sweet syrup one can only find in fruit rotten to the core. oh, but how divine her wines! how alluring, how addictive. who could resist? she'd lured him in with treat upon treat, and like the fey-queen she was, trapped him in a dance for all eternity. whatever he wanted, she could provide. power, pleasure, potential. his unknowable past. answer me: in the face of perfection, could you deny yourself?

she ripped out his still-beating heart and poured the blackened blood over his head, bathed him in his own sin and told him of the coronation. his hair shriveled up, sharpened--once again dark as life and mortal folly. for he had become a god and would one day slay the one-eyed king and be crowned in his place.

when he accepts, oblivious to the knowledge of who who who the king is (not his king, surely, not his white knight), she hoots with laughter and takes off into the sky. she is spider, she is owl, she is goat, she is myriad. she is echidna, mother of all monsters, and from her, a king is born.

when the cocoon unravels, he knows he is not free. thread still guides him, invisible puppet strings of her making. he hates being toyed with, but the game--the game calls to the child in him, and he answers the call willingly. i'll play your game, he tells her, and she smiles, because what other choice does he have?

(there are worse fates than to be ensnared in the ropes of a beautiful witch.)

he finds himself neglecting his clerical duties. he finds himself doubting his faith. he finds himself avoiding his knight-king, his beautiful knight-king who had taken his breath--and his sight--away as they'd danced among the flowers. he wants to get on his knees and pray to the god of death once more, press his lips to those boots and beg for forgiveness, but does not. the knight-king will know he has been unfaithful. the knight-king will know he has tasted of the forbidden fruit and slept among the lilies and the poppies. he will know, and he will cast his unblinking gaze away.

and he will be alone once more.

 

* * *

 

consider: could a god among men break the bonds a monster among monsters has bound him with?

consider: would he need to?

the answer is she has all the answers, and she knows. she knows what the knight-king will do, for she has known the knight-king. once upon a time, in their youth, they had met amidst red flowers and had become lovers of sorts. they had seen each other in themselves. she had made him, the knight-king before he was knight-king, privy to her plans, and in doing so, crowned him king with one eye.

she was ambitious. he was complicit. the fruit of their union was to be revolution.

he looked the other way when he should have slain her, monster of all monsters, in her most fragile form, and in return, she and her subjects had bowed to the knight-king as he passed by with his fallen, leaving the scent of flowers in his wake.

the knight-king is no fool. sure, a king does not often notice the happenings of his subjects from atop his mighty throne, but that one is different. mere subject does not begin to describe the one she has seduced, for who is closer to man than his sword? the knight-king was born in battle and he has forged his weapon in blood. as his vassal has pledged himself fully, so has he devoted himself to the rehabilitation of a lost soul.

("i need a new quinque.")

("you are my quinque.")

when the two of them, opposed in every form, had met, he had already become old. he had grown weary of his existence; judgment is a great and terrible gift, one that consumes one's entire being. he longed for the release, the knight-king did, and that the witch-queen did promise.

(oh, but who dares command god answer for the lives he has taken? who has the right to punish god for his sins?)

(his son, of course.)

he was to be slain, felled by he who he loved the most. the white reaper was to have fallen at the hands of the black, red staining his pure visage for the first--and last--time. he was to be sacrifice, the lamb on the altar as the black goat rose.

he had thought it fair. he existed for execution, so an execution he shall have. and if a new king should rise from the flowers of his corpse? so be it, and good luck to him.

the knight-king has known their fates for a very long time, but for the first time in his life, he wants to be free.

 

* * *

 

a god among men comes to her, pleading, and she smiles.

"why, my dear, all you had to do was ask."

with a flick of her wrist, she summons her thrall from the depths of hell. and upon seeing him, the knight-king near-weeps with joy.

(he's never known an emotion such as this. has never cried, in all his years of immortal being. but here, between his love and his not-love and the machinations he has side-stepped to arrive at this junction, the face of god cracks. a smile forms on that featureless face, and it is as sunlight piercing the heavens.)

and yet he is changed. he is different from the vassal the white knight has come to know and love. he bows to the spider-queen but it is not out of fealty. there is distrust and malice in his eyes, and a wickedness he could only have learned from her.

looking upon the still-kneeling figure before him, the king is reminded of the beast of old, who had snapped at him and charged thoughtlessly, overturning flowers in his wake.

(cornered, wounded, what else can a beast do?)

back then his hair had been bleach-white, mirroring his own, a pale shadow in the underground.

now, it is pitch-black. his entire figure is, save for the red on his hands. he wears blood and shadow as only one born from them may. he is once again wild, but contained. a product of both their influence, the knight-king suspects.

the black reaper rises up. presses his darkened locks against the white of his counterpart, drags he who had been leaning over him down for a kiss.

and the white reaper gasps, and melts, and closes his eyes--and in that moment, the other pulls away.

"you didn't kill my friends," he says, and it is a statement. a test.

the white reaper nods, silent. there is no lying to eyes like those, deep and dark and penetrating.

then the black reaper turns to the spider-queen who has brought them both here, spun their threads together with hands and word and song. he extends a clawed hand to her, and she accepts, grinning.

"you're the author, the one-eye," he states, just as resolute.

and she nods, just as him before her. her eyes are alight with excitement and wicked charm. "so are we all."

"alright," he says, and there is the slightest hint of uncertainty in his voice. he closes his eyes for a moment, and opens them to a sentence.

"i won't kill you," tumbles out of his mouth like a confession, and it is to both of them it is addressed.

the queen laughs, starts to shake her head.

"you don't want to, but you will," she says. "you promised, remember?"

he draws her nearer, tightens his grip on her hand. "i won't."

and it is she that takes initiative, it's always her, it's always been her. she takes his head in her hand and wrenches a kiss from him.

(it is not soft. it is not gentle. theirs is fierce and warlike, all teeth and tongue and biting. he tastes her blood in his mouth and it is divine. her ichor is ambrosia and she is a monster as great as a god.)

then she stops. and she takes her hands away, and she says, "see? each of us has our role to play, and you must become the strongest of the strong. there is nothing for you here."

he is still panting, mind whirling. he opens his mouth to speak, but before he can, another voice rings out, startling both of them.

"is that really how it must be?" asks the knight-king, and he takes a knee. "i thought if by my death, peace could be achieved, then maybe i could make up for all i've taken. i wanted to die by the hands of the one i love.

"but," he continues, the others silent and rapt, "i don't want that anymore. i want... i know it's selfish, but i want to be free. i want to live. i don't want to be a mindless tool anymore."

he looks at the spider-witch and says, "if both of us swear fealty, it will be the same as if he had killed us. as if he has dominated us, and proven his claim to the throne."

the spider-queen pauses. she narrows her eyes. she considers.

"well, this is unprecedented," she says, finally. "i didn't think you had it in you."

they all know that if she rejects his offer, there will be a fight to the death. the black-haired king will have to kill them all for the sake of his justice and his new world order. the faintest of hopes in the face of irreparable loss.

(in the end, it's all in her hands. but then again, she's always had them in the palm of her hand.)

"how the mighty have fallen," she quips, and grins, bloodied canines flashing. "very well, former king, let us do as you have proposed."

and the one-eyed owl gives a curtsy before dropping to one knee.

and they take the chrysalis king's hands, one in each, and pledge fealty. they vow to serve and to protect, to give up their titles and become vassals. they will become as of one soul, their bodies an extension of his to act as harbinger of rebellion and change.

and the one-eyed king looks down upon his dominion, and smiles, for he is whole.

"let the revolution begin."

 

**Author's Note:**

> hey if you're reading this, thanks. i know this is a niche pairing with some niche stylistic choices, but i really like this dynamic even if what i've written is more than its fair share of ooc


End file.
